milder tone. “This is my sister, Lady Annabelle.”
Caught off guard, Eugenie gave a wobbly curtsey.
Just then a fair-haired girl came hurrying toward them, flushed, her gaze anxious. “Your Grace,” she said breathlessly.
“Miss Gamboni,” he retorted coolly. “We will discuss your failure as a chaperone for my sister later.”
Eugenie felt sorry for the girl, but Annabelle was more interested in persuading her brother to let her have her own way. “Mr. Belmont says there is a ball in the village on Saturday night, Sinclair. Shall we go?”
“Annabelle, you know that is not possible.”
“Why not?” Her voice had grown a little shrill. “He says they have a ball every year at this time and we have never gone. Don’t you think that is a little odd, when we have lived here so long? I want to go, Sinclair. Just because I am marrying Lucius does not mean I cannot have a little treat. Indeed, I think I deserve a treat. Please. You know I love to dance. It is the one thing I miss about London. We have never attended the village balls and yet Mr. Belmont tells me they are a great deal of fun.”
“Rather tedious, sometimes,” Terry put in. “Very strict when it comes to manners, aren’t they, Eugenie? No high jinks allowed.”
Eugenie looked as if she might say something else, but her brother nudged her and instead she reluctantly nodded in agreement.
Despite all of his inner doubts, Sinclair felt himself waver. Annabelle was going to London soon. There would be no time to form a tender for the appalling brother, so what harm could it do? She would probably find the village ball boring and uncomfortable; she would not enjoy being jostled among so many smelly farmers and local worthies. And Sinclair and Miss Gamboni would be there to keep an eye on her.
“We shall see.”
She pouted and tossed her head, but he thought it was more for Terry’s benefit than his own. “You’re so stuffy, Sinclair. You never have any fun and you want everyone to be as boring as you.”
“We must go,” Eugenie said again into the uncomfortable silence, with an urgent glance at her brother. “Thank you again for your invitation, Your Grace. We are most grateful for your kindness.”
“Yes, thank you,” Terry murmured, as he ambled in her wake.
Sinclair watched them go, their heads close, as if in serious conversation. It wasn’t until Annabelle tucked her hand into his elbow that he realized she’d been speaking and he was miles away. Determinedly putting Eugenie Belmont out of his thoughts, he concentrated on his sister.
“You cannot have enjoyed being with Terrence Belmont,” he said. “He’s not up to your mark.”
Annabelle smiled at him fondly. “Sinclair, you are such a snob. And the thing is you don’t even know it.”
J ack was back in the stables after a visit to Erik, but content to be loaded once more into the old coach. The twins were tired from a game of hide-and-seek with a stable lad and leaned against each other, sleepy-eyed. Terry waffled on about Lady Annabelle and how unaffected she was for a duke’s sister.
“Do you think she’ll come to the village ball?” he mused. “A guinea says she will.”
“You owe me a guinea.”
“Then we’ll be even. If I could find a wife like Lady Annabelle I’d be made for life.”
“Once she sees where the ball is held, in the rooms above The Acorn, she may not be quite so unaffected,” Eugenie said dryly. “It is hardly what she is used to, Terry. I’d be very surprised if her brother lets her go. That poor girl . . . Miss Gamboni. Obviously Lady Annabelle gave her the slip.”
“All the gossip about him is right, isn’t it? He’s an arrogant stuffed shirt. Did you hear how he spoke to me when I dared to touch his old sword?”
Eugenie wasn’t listening. Her thoughts were drifting. Would Sinclair be at the village ball? And if he was, would he dance with her? The rooms above The Acorn were crowded and stuffy and couples were known
Caught off guard, Eugenie gave a wobbly curtsey.
Just then a fair-haired girl came hurrying toward them, flushed, her gaze anxious. “Your Grace,” she said breathlessly.
“Miss Gamboni,” he retorted coolly. “We will discuss your failure as a chaperone for my sister later.”
Eugenie felt sorry for the girl, but Annabelle was more interested in persuading her brother to let her have her own way. “Mr. Belmont says there is a ball in the village on Saturday night, Sinclair. Shall we go?”
“Annabelle, you know that is not possible.”
“Why not?” Her voice had grown a little shrill. “He says they have a ball every year at this time and we have never gone. Don’t you think that is a little odd, when we have lived here so long? I want to go, Sinclair. Just because I am marrying Lucius does not mean I cannot have a little treat. Indeed, I think I deserve a treat. Please. You know I love to dance. It is the one thing I miss about London. We have never attended the village balls and yet Mr. Belmont tells me they are a great deal of fun.”
“Rather tedious, sometimes,” Terry put in. “Very strict when it comes to manners, aren’t they, Eugenie? No high jinks allowed.”
Eugenie looked as if she might say something else, but her brother nudged her and instead she reluctantly nodded in agreement.
Despite all of his inner doubts, Sinclair felt himself waver. Annabelle was going to London soon. There would be no time to form a tender for the appalling brother, so what harm could it do? She would probably find the village ball boring and uncomfortable; she would not enjoy being jostled among so many smelly farmers and local worthies. And Sinclair and Miss Gamboni would be there to keep an eye on her.
“We shall see.”
She pouted and tossed her head, but he thought it was more for Terry’s benefit than his own. “You’re so stuffy, Sinclair. You never have any fun and you want everyone to be as boring as you.”
“We must go,” Eugenie said again into the uncomfortable silence, with an urgent glance at her brother. “Thank you again for your invitation, Your Grace. We are most grateful for your kindness.”
“Yes, thank you,” Terry murmured, as he ambled in her wake.
Sinclair watched them go, their heads close, as if in serious conversation. It wasn’t until Annabelle tucked her hand into his elbow that he realized she’d been speaking and he was miles away. Determinedly putting Eugenie Belmont out of his thoughts, he concentrated on his sister.
“You cannot have enjoyed being with Terrence Belmont,” he said. “He’s not up to your mark.”
Annabelle smiled at him fondly. “Sinclair, you are such a snob. And the thing is you don’t even know it.”
J ack was back in the stables after a visit to Erik, but content to be loaded once more into the old coach. The twins were tired from a game of hide-and-seek with a stable lad and leaned against each other, sleepy-eyed. Terry waffled on about Lady Annabelle and how unaffected she was for a duke’s sister.
“Do you think she’ll come to the village ball?” he mused. “A guinea says she will.”
“You owe me a guinea.”
“Then we’ll be even. If I could find a wife like Lady Annabelle I’d be made for life.”
“Once she sees where the ball is held, in the rooms above The Acorn, she may not be quite so unaffected,” Eugenie said dryly. “It is hardly what she is used to, Terry. I’d be very surprised if her brother lets her go. That poor girl . . . Miss Gamboni. Obviously Lady Annabelle gave her the slip.”
“All the gossip about him is right, isn’t it? He’s an arrogant stuffed shirt. Did you hear how he spoke to me when I dared to touch his old sword?”
Eugenie wasn’t listening. Her thoughts were drifting. Would Sinclair be at the village ball? And if he was, would he dance with her? The rooms above The Acorn were crowded and stuffy and couples were known
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